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  BOOK OF SHADOWS

  Volume 4: In Memoriam

  A Novel by Michael Beaulieu

  Book of Shadows: Volume Four: In Memoriam

  © Copyright 2018 by Michael Beaulieu

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events or incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First edition: October 2018

  Visit Michael Beaulieu online and subscribe to his mailing list for announcements about new releases, limited time promotions of his books, a first look at upcoming projects, access to cool giveaways, freebies and much more. www.michaelbeaulieu.com

  Cover design by James, GoOnWrite.com

  This book is dedicated to my fans, family & friends, especially:

  Heather Price

  Angela Anderson

  Jackie

  Veronica McIntyre

  Carole-Lesley Rowland

  Essy

  Linda Hamonou

  Raeanne Santos

  Joshua Bernard

  Justin Masters

  Bill Stavrou

  Mister Logan Black

  Charleen McCarthy

  Paul McCarthy

  Melissa McCarthy

  Denise Morrison

  Emily Morrison

  Paolo Nino Fulciniti

  Aimée Morrison

  ###

  in memory of my late cat, Mister White

  Missing any previous volumes of Book of Shadows?

  Volume One: Casting:

  (This volume is free and always will be.)

  Amazon

  Volume Two: Rising:

  Amazon

  Volume Three: Hunting:

  Amazon

  If you’re inclined to leave reviews on Amazon, it would be tremendously appreciated if you could review my books. The more reviews an author has, the more people will check out their books. And they help you rise up in Amazon’s algorithms, which can also help you reach more new readers. Basically, reviews are the lifeblood of indie authors like me. So, if you want me to be able to continue writing books, why not help me spread the word?

  If you do leave a review, be sure to e-mail me and let me know so I’ll be sure to see it: [email protected] And if you have any thoughts that you don’t want to say in a review, or any questions, you’re more than welcome to e-mail me, too.

  If you’d like to be among the first to hear about Michael’s books, writing progress and much more, head over to his website and subscribe to his newsletter www.michaelbeaulieu.com.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedications

  Need Previous Volumes?

  A Few Things

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

  Q&A WITH THE AUTHOR

  Still Need Previous Volumes?

  Book of Shadows - The Soundtrack

  About the Author

  A FEW THINGS

  Emma experiences many conflicting thoughts in this volume. Even more so than usual. All will become clear eventually, but what you need to know right now is that her darker thoughts will appear [in brackets].

  That said, after writing three books solely from Emma’s point of view, I thought it would be fun to have Lia, Shar and January also narrate this volume. Initially, I was just going to write from Emma, Lia and Shar’s perspectives, since they’re the coven, and it all started with them. That seemed to make the most sense. However, January has been a fan favorite ever since the very first book, actually beating out Lia and Shar whenever I’ve done polls. And if I was going to write from different perspectives, it made sense to include the second most popular character in the series.

  I didn’t have Jim or Pete narrate simply because they’ve been the least popular characters and writing from three new perspectives was going to be challenging enough already without adding even more. So, no, it had nothing to do with the fact that they’re guys. However, I do enjoy keeping an air of mystery about those two and writing from their perspectives would’ve meant revealing things prematurely.

  I hope you will enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. You asked for the characters to be back in high school and dealing with those type of issues and so they do. You also asked that I give them some time to “relax” or “be normal” before the next crisis. I believe I accomplished this as well. But, of course, something is brewing and it will probably blow your mind. Or, maybe you’ll see it coming.

  CHAPTER ONE

  EMMA

  My name is Emma McGlinchey-Beaulieu. I’m a sixteen-year-old, natural born witch of the white magick variety and last night my friends and I took out an evil, black magick witch named Jenna. She used hunters and demons to abduct good witches so she could kill them and steal their magick. She was targeting my friends Lia, Shar and I, terrorizing us during recent weeks, so we did what most people would do. We decided to fight back and kick her ass. And that we did, but it was a long, grueling fight that had us casting spells we’d only just learned yesterday morning. That’s why I’m surprised that I’m awake so early right now. When I went to bed late last night I thought I was going to be out cold for at least 24 hours. However, according to my three clocks and my iPhone, it’s only ten past five, which means I only slept for four hours. C’est tout.

  I’m so tired my eyes burn and my fried brain feels like there’s loud static in my head. Meanwhile, my whole, bruise-covered body aches after last night’s fight. Yet I can’t fall back asleep. I guess it must be the adrenaline my body had to pump out to beat the bitch. I’m probably still in fight or flight mode.


  I continue trying to fall back asleep for another 25 minutes but have no luck. Put it this way: if witches ran on batteries then mine would be at zero percent right now. I suppose I should just be glad to be alive after yesterday, which was the most overwhelming day of my life.

  We’ve decided that we’re just going to refer to the whole Jenna fiasco as the shitstorm, rather than having to use the bitch’s name every time we mention it. Personally, I never want to say or hear her name again. I might even go so far as to have my boyfriend Tim use magick to erase it from my memory. If not, I’ll simply write J when I have to mention her here. Thank you, Lord and Lady, and Gods and Goddesses, for letting us triumph over her.Now could you please let me sleep?

  Yesterday was actually the second time my friends and I had to fight for our lives. A couple of months ago we were involved in a horrible shooting when these zealot bullies at the Catholic high school we were attending tried to kill Lia, Shar and I because Lia and Shar are a lesbian couple and we’re all witches. In fact, they shot all of us and I have three ugly scars to prove it. Poor Lia was shot dead, her soul starting to leave her body, but our fairy friend, January, healed her just in the nick of time. Unfortunately, the zealots successfully killed Tim and his sister. They were both immortals, but only Tim came back to life. He figures his sister didn’t because they shot her in the head. In any case, we were forced to kill all of the bullies. To that end, Lia and I would be deceased right now if January hadn’t appeared when she did and torched two of them as they were about to splatter our brains all over the floor.

  In spite of the fact that they tried to murder us, sometimes I feel guilty about having killed the bullies. And I always feel guilty about killing the two sisters of one bully who only showed up and tried to kill us because Tim had accidentally killed their brother. If we could have simply disarmed the sisters and the bullies, we would’ve just tied them up until the cops arrived, but they left us no choice. I’ll never feel guilty about having to kill J, though. There’s no question in my mind that she needed to die. She was practically the devil incarnate. I didn’t think such evil could even exist. I guess that’s because I’ve always tried to be an optimist and wanted to believe that there’s good in everyone. Now I know better. Maybe J was innocent when she was born, but I doubt she stayed that way for long. Now she’s probably the devil’s bride. If there is a devil. Wicca teaches that there isn’t one, and I believed that wholeheartedly, but now I’m not so sure. After all, now that I know demons are real, I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to think there’s a devil presiding over them.

  I sit up, yawn and stretch. I want to look at the new spells in our Book of Shadows, which we just got back yesterday because J had stolen it. But when I pick it up from my beside table, I immediately feel out of breath and have to lie back down. Only I still can’t fall back asleep so I sit back up and push the blankets off of me, swing my legs around and stand up. Just as I take a step forward it feels like a frozen hand grabs my right leg from under the bed and trips me, scaring the hell out of me. I flinch as my face hits the floor and I wet myself. When I turn over something powerful and invisible pins my shoulders down and the back of my head slams against the floor. I shut my eyes for a second, wincing, and when I open them I find myself surrounded by darkness. It’s pitch black and I’m in a tight space. A closet, maybe? Wait – what’s that sound? Shit, I just heard it again and I recognize it. It’s a sound I’ve heard before. The sound of dirt landing on a coffin. Merde! To that end, I try to move, but my inability to do so only confirms that I’m being buried alive. This is the third time I’ve been trapped in a coffin! Is this another test? Did I fall back asleep? Either way, I try to teleport out, but it doesn’t work. I attempt to do so again and it becomes obvious that the coffin has mercury screws or is hexed because it still doesn’t happen and now my head is throbbing like I have a horrible caffeine withdrawal headache. Plus, my head kills from hitting the floor. Please, Gods and Goddesses, let me get out of here. Give my hands the super strength you’ve given them before and enable me to free myself. The coffin can’t all be mercury because I feel my hands growing stronger by the second.

  I slam my fists against the lid of the coffin. Nothing happens, except that my hands hurt. I hit it again and this time I hear the wood fracturing. Not a lot, but it’s progress. I hit it a third time and a thin crack appears above my head and I can see light. It isn’t very bright – moonlight, most likely – but it’s there.

  I slam my hands into the coffin again and larger cracks appear. Unfortunately, dirt comes through the one above my face and I get some on my mouth and have to wipe it away. But some of it finds its way between my lips and hits my tongue. I can taste it and would like to spit it out, but if I did that right now I’d just be spitting on myself. No, best I just keep hitting the damn coffin.

  Just as I pound it again, my knuckles killing me, I feel something move near my mouth. Something squirmy. It’s either an earthworm or a snake and either way I’m freaking out. I quickly smack it off of me, but I’m completely grossed out and have to fight the urge to puke. I am getting the hell out of here now. I batter the coffin again and again, making the cracks larger and larger. Meanwhile, the dirt is being shoveled onto it as fast as humanly possible. More of it lands on my face and I have to shut my eyes. Now I’ve had enough. J’en ai assez! (I’ve had enough!) I hit the coffin’s lid so hard it bursts right off, the hinges fracturing, and it goes flying several feet up in the air. I hold up my hands and use magick to levitate it off to the side so it won’t come crashing down on me. Someone shovels dirt on my face as I stand up. Furious, I levitate up to the ground where I’m shocked to find the damn bullies – Ken, Troy and Harvey – all holding shovels. All three of them have pitch black demon eyes. Ken, who looks like a burn victim since January had set him on fire, swings his shovel at me, but I teleport several feet out of the way just in the nick of time. I must have fallen back asleep; I’m wearing my nightshirt, although I also have my favorite black jeans and sneakers on. Also, my power was depleted before I woke up in the coffin, but now I feel like the Energizer Bunny. I’m probably having a PTSD-induced nightmare but this sure as hell feels real and I’d better treat it like it is, lest I die here and in reality.

  Without even casting a spell, I instinctively produce balls of electricity in my hands, which I shoot at the three of them in huge bursts. Unfortunately, it passes right through them. They’re ghosts, after all. But then how did they shovel real dirt on me? I zap them again and it goes right through Troy and Harvey, but when it hits Ken he bursts into flames.

  Ken starts laughing, not in any pain at all that I can see. He raises his fists and pounds his chest as balls of fire form around them. He hurls one at me, hard and fast. Fortunately, I fly out of the way quickly enough, but I definitely feel the heat as it passes. When I look back at them, Harvey and Troy have pistols pointed at me and they shoot. BANG! BANG! I soar way up in the air, but I catch a bullet in the center of my stomach, which stings like hell, and I start to fall as they continue firing. BANG! BANG! BANG! Meanwhile, Ken hurls fireballs at me with both hands, but I manage to teleport twenty feet up in the air, barely avoiding them. “I’m sorry!” I scream. “You forced our hands!”

  “Just keep telling yourself that, you pathetic witch!” Ken yells.

  “And remember, your boy toy started this!” shouts Troy, the dude Tim accidentally killed.

  I teleport even further above them and fly off, albeit with one hand applying pressure to my stomach, which feels like it’s on fire, and I’m bleeding profusely. I move my hand to look and I’ve literally got a palm full of blood. This isn’t good. It hurts so much. Sharp, piercing pain. As intense as any other gunshot wound I’ve ever had, maybe worse. No, definitely worse. Because this one must have hit an organ and it’s going to be the death of me. I’m starting to feel weak already. It’s either from the blood loss or that the bullet was made with magick-defeating mercury. Or, most likely, both.

&
nbsp; In spite of my fatigue, I continue flying along, just above the trees, wanting to put as much distance between me and the guys as possible. Thank Goddess they can’t fly. Or can they? I feel something strike against the top of my skull. Could it be I’ve just dodged a gunshot wound to the head? Then it happens again. And again. But I don’t hear the sound of bullets being fired.

  I spin around and discover that I’m being attacked by crows, those hideous black scavengers that I’ve always hated. Several of them come crashing into me, pecking at me as they do so, their beaks pinching my skin tightly and ripping flesh away from my arms, one even ripping off a piece of my left cheek. It stings like fifty paper-cuts. I burst into a ball of electricity and they start falling to their deaths as they hit me. Only now I’m so weak I start falling along with them.

  I feel like I’m going to black out and I’m getting chills and sweating. It’s all I can do to slow myself down enough to land with my feet on the ground. Now I know what I have to do. Get the damn bullet out. But how? I try putting my hand over the wound and willing it to come out like January does, but it doesn’t budge one bit. I can’t think of any other way to do it, so I attempt to stick my right pointer finger and thumb down into the bullet hole. Malheureusement (unfortunately), the hole isn’t big enough for both. I do manage to penetrate it with just my pointer finger at least. It stings so fucking much, as I have to shove it several inches inside myself before I make contact with the bullet. I can’t get my finger around it well enough to pull it out, however. In fact, I accidentally push it an inch further in. Looks like it’ll have to stay for now. But I need to control the bleeding and fast.

  I think about trying to use my own electricity against me. To light up my finger, which is still inside me, just for a few seconds to cauterize the wound. But if I make myself vulnerable to my own electricity – assuming it’s even possible – that would still be enough to knock myself out, I’m sure. And this is not the time to knock yourself out. So, I press my right hand on the wound with my left on top of my right. I’m going to try a healing spell from the back of the Book of Shadows. Well, it actually calls for gems and for the person receiving the healing to be in a meditative state, but it can’t hurt to say the verbal part, Angel Raphael, angel of ease, he who heals, please heal me, if it be the will, of the Lord and Lady, Angel Raphael, angel of ease, he who heals, please heal me. So mote it be. I have to say it twice, but then my hands start to feel warmer by the second and glow with bright white light. I keep them pressed against the bullet hole until a few seconds pass and I feel something against the palm of my right hand so I look and it’s the bullet! Thank you Angel Raphael. Then I go to return my hands to my wound and discover that it’s gone, save for a small scar. Thank you Angel Raphael, thank you. My hands stop glowing. My mind is blown. Who would’ve thought that an angel would heal a witch? I didn’t even know angels were real until I read a few angel spells/prayers in the back of the Book of Shadows. I guess it’s not so hard to believe they exist. I mean, there are spells that call upon Catholic Saints in the Book of Shadows so I guess angels aren’t that far of a stretch. Besides, I know for a fact that demons exist and angels would seem to be the opposite of demons, so there you go.